


karmic retribution

by pondify



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aborted No Mercy Route, Angst, Explicit Language, Gender-neutral Reader, Heavy Angst, Other, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, References to No Mercy Route, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence, like a lot, multiple resets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondify/pseuds/pondify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“i want you to reset. not just from that SAVE point over there, but from all the way back to the beginning, when you fell. i know you can do it. you have the ability. delete the current timeline, start over, and bring everyone back.” Sans’s glowing eye casts blue light over your face, and his next words chill you to - well, to the bone. “if you don’t, i’ll destroy the SAVE point,” he says, his voice calm and completely serious. “i wonder what’ll happen. bet you don’t wanna find out, huh?”</p><p>--</p><p>Aborted!Genocide Route. Sans convinces you to delete your save file and restart. What happens when you decide to stop killing for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first undertale fic, i hope i'm going to be able to do these characters justice
> 
> honestly i have no idea where this is going so please enjoy

You’re having a bad time.

You’ve been fighting Sans for what feels like days. Maybe it has been. There’s no way to keep track, not when you’ve reset so many times. Sans has killed you more times than you can count and sidestepped everything you’ve thrown at him, and every time, you come back more determined than ever.

It’s not enough.

You’re starting to think that maybe this is what you deserve.

It’s a fresh reset, and even though you know Sans doesn’t remember the other timelines, he looks as worn out as you feel when you approach him.

“hey, kid.” His permanent grin looks strained already. “you, uh, done yet?”

It honestly pisses you off a little that he doesn’t remember it but you do. You grit your teeth and brandish your knife, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for his attack.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, the skeleton’s smile turns crooked. “you look like you’ve got a real _bone_ to pick,” he comments. “what’s eatin’ you, kiddo?”

You frown, your fingers twitching on the handle of your weapon. You thought Sans had given up on his jokes several resets ago. The last several times, he’d jumped straight into battle.

“That wasn’t very _humerus_ ,” you say without thinking.

Sans blinks. “they speak,” he says, sounding bemused. “thought you didn’t have a _funny bone_ anymore, what with all the monsters you’ve killed. I’d have guessed you were pretty _heartless_ by now.”

You roll your eyes at the puns, but two can play at that game. “Why are you wasting your time?” you ask him. “Don’t you have the _backbone_ to fight me anymore?”

“isn’t my laziness _tibia_ expected at this point?” Sans shrugs nonchalantly, but he’s clearly exhausted. Dammit, _he’s_ exhausted and _he_ doesn’t even remember any of the shit you’ve gone through.

“I guess you just don’t have the _guts_ ,” you taunt him, annoyed with the faint feeling of your conscience pricking at your Soul. You ignore it, even though you can feel your sins crawling on your back. “Stop messing around and fight me, Sans.”

His eyes go dark, the white pinpricks of light vanishing, and damn it if that isn’t still unsettling every time you see him do it. “are you really that eager to die again, kid? it’s been… what, twenty times? thirty?” When you’re silent, he adds mockingly, “don’t tell me you haven’t been keeping track.”

Truthfully, you lost count around twenty, but you aren’t about to admit it. Instead, you shrug, letting your impatience seep into your body language. “Hence why I’m so anxious to finally kill _you_ and be done with this,” you drawl, twirling your knife.

Sans just looks at you with those blank eyes. “look, buddy, i was really hoping we wouldn’t have to do this again,” he tells you, suddenly sounding defeated.

“ _What_?” Is he - giving up? Surrendering? That was absolutely the _last_ thing you were expecting him to say - and Sans takes advantage of your moment of weakness.

Within a split second, you’re slammed against the golden wall of the hallway, knocking the breath from your body and sending pain shooting through you. The knife falls from your hand and clatters to the floor, leaving you defenseless. Sans’s left eye is glowing blue.

He sighs, stepping closer to you. “i wasn’t lying. i really don’t want to do this to you,” he says. “but it looks like we’re out of options. so i’m giving you an ultimatum, kid.”

You cough, sucking in a ragged breath. Your chest is throbbing with a sharp, stabbing pain; your ribs might be broken, but you’re still pinned to the wall by Sans’s magic, so you can’t be sure.

There’s a pause before Sans continues. “i want you to reset. not just from that SAVE point over there, but from all the way back to the beginning, when you fell. i know you can do it. you have the ability. delete the current timeline, start over, and bring everyone back.”

“Or what?” Your voice is pathetically weak, and you’re tempted to spit in his face to add impact to your contempt. After a moment of deliberation, you decide not to, if only because at this point you’re completely at his mercy and you don’t want to push him toward any rash decisions.

Sans’s glowing eye casts blue light over your face, and his next words chill you to - well, to the bone. “if you don’t, i’ll destroy the SAVE point,” he says, his voice calm and completely serious. “i wonder what’ll happen. bet you don’t wanna find out, huh?”

“You’re bluffing,” you manage, eyes wide. _Destroy_ the SAVE point? The thought of losing your ability to reset is, quite frankly, terrifying.

“try me.” His grin is wider than you’ve ever seen it, but nothing about his expression is happy.

Desperately, you search for something, _anything_ to say to convince him not to do it. The best thing you can come up with is, “Even if you destroy the SAVE point, I’ll still be here.”

“heh. that’s true,” he admits. “but, ya know… that can be easily remedied. killing you is pretty easy, kiddo. think i wouldn’t do it one more time?”

He’s insane. He has to be. It’s the only explanation. You stare at him for a long moment, your mind whirling. You’ve never felt so panicked before, not since before you fell, anyway, and your breathing gets even shallower than before.

Oh, that’s right. Your ribs are still probably broken. You cough again, and you think that might be blood dripping down your chin. You probably won’t be conscious for much longer.

Sans’s bony fingers wrap around your chin, and he leans closer, tilting your face up. “c’mon, kid. you’re tryin’ my patience,” he says, almost cheerfully. “make your choice, or i’ll make it for ya. either you reset and delete this timeline, and when you come back, you don’t kill _anyone_ , or i destroy your SAVE, and…” His smile twists. “ **I ‘ l l  e n d  y o u r  m i s e r a b l e  e x i s t e n c e  f o r  g o o d.** ”

This is it, then. You’ve got to make a choice. Can you really allow yourself to go back on everything you’ve done, undo every sin you’ve committed, bring back every life you’ve taken, just because your own life is at risk now? That’s pretty damn selfish of you, and part of you wants to accept what you deserve and finally die for real.

But it’s no good. Your survival instinct is too strong. If this is what it takes for you to live even just one more day, it’s a chance you’re going to have to take.

“Fine,” you spit, turning your head sharply to the side and jerking it out of Sans’s grasp. “I’ll reset.”

“seriously?” Sans looks genuinely surprised, but he quickly recovers. “i gotta hand it to you, kiddo. you sure know how to take a skeleton by surprise.”

“Shut the hell up and let me go, Sans.” You strain against your magic bonds, gritting your teeth. You’ve made your decision, and now you just want to get it over with before you change your mind.

“wait a second.” Sans chuckles mirthlessly. “don’t i have to kill you for you to be able to reset the timeline?”

You stiffen, clenching your jaw. “Just get it over with,” you mutter.

“don’t even get to see you put up a fight, huh?” His shoulders slump, and he looks almost disappointed. “guess it’s better this way.”

“Sans,” you say threateningly, although really, what can you do? He’s still holding you to the wall with his magic, and you can feel your consciousness starting to slip away even now.

To your surprise, he actually releases you, the blue glow in his eye fading. You slump against the wall, coughing a little and feeling more blood drip down your chin. That’s probably something worse than just a few broken ribs, right? You’re probably already dying. You can only hope he’ll kill you quickly. 

The skeleton nudges your knife out of your reach with his foot, but truth be told, you’d forgotten it was even there. He meets your eyes, his expression serious for once. “listen, kid. after the reset… don’t kill anyone, got it? if you do, you’ll have me to answer to.” He sighs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his blue hoodie, and looks away. “and hey. maybe we can even be friends this time.”

You choke on a laugh. Friends? Is this guy kidding? 

“yeah, whatever. just try, alright?” Sans looks like he doesn’t really believe you can do it. He also looks, you realize (with a slight pang that you try your damnedest to ignore), incredibly tired. “i’ve always thought that somewhere in you, there was someone i could be friends with. it’d be nice to be proved right for once.”

“Cut the emotional bullshit,” you say, rolling your eyes. You’d rather be dead than listen to this. “Just kill me already.”

“begging for death? heh. never thought you’d be the type,” Sans says, a bit of his smile returning. “alright. here goes nothing.”

A white bone, massive and sharp, materializes in his hand, and his left eye flashes bright blue. You close your eyes, and a sharp pain rips through your chest, and then…

Nothing.


	2. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You enter (and exit) the Ruins, as well as having an encounter with everyone's favorite flower.

The first thing you become aware of is something soft against your skin. Brushing against the back of your exposed hands and arms, tickling you slightly… you think they may be flower petals. Light filters through your closed eyelids, not bright enough to hurt but enough to pull you further out of unconsciousness.

With some effort, you sit up, your eyelids fluttering open. You’re in the Ruins again, sitting in the yellow flowers. Just like when you fell, you realize. So you actually did it.

You deleted your timeline.

At first, you’re mentally berating yourself for being so stupid as to fall for Sans’s trick. But a strange sense of peace comes over you as you run your fingers over the petals that surround you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this relaxed. Fighting your way through the Underground – _killing_ your way through the Underground – was exhausting, and you might even be glad that Sans made you reset.

Maybe it’s finally time to fix your mistakes.

You pull yourself to your feet, brushing a bit of hair away from your face as you do so. It’s dim, though faint sunlight shines through the hole far above you, illuminating the golden flowers beneath your feet. It’s been so very long since you last felt the sun, and you want to soak it in before you leave.

Your memory is a little hazy. It’s been a long time since you first fell, and you’ve never started a new timeline before, so you don’t remember exactly what to do from here. With a sigh you continue down the only hallway you see, to the right of the bed of flowers. The passageway gets darker as you go, but you have no trouble seeing, your eyes quickly becoming accustomed to it.

There’s a doorway to your left, and you pass through it without much thought. Ahead of you is another spot of sunlight, but this time, only a single golden flower stands in it.

Oh, god. Not this asshole.

“Really, _____?” Flowey scoffs at you, condescending as ever. “I thought you were actually going to go through with the plan. But you let that stupid skeleton convince you to reset? That’s low, even for _you_.”

“Shut up,” you snarl. “I don’t need you judging my actions. _I_ made this choice.”

You’re being too defensive and you know it, but you’re already conflicted over your decision, and Flowey voicing your innermost doubts isn’t helping. You shouldn’t satisfy him with a response to his taunts, but he’s just so damn _frustrating_. Who would’ve thought a fucking flower could get on your nerves so easily?

“I’m disappointed in you, _____,” Flowey tells you, almost conversationally. “You were so close to reaching our goal, and now, look what you’ve done. You’ve thrown away all our hard work and condemned yourself, and now you’re right back at the start. It was a foolish move.”

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that he’s right. He is your darkest desires made manifest, and that part of you is still screaming about how idiotic your decision was.

When you first fell to the Underground, you were terrified, confused, and more than anything, angry. The reason you were on the mountain in the first place… well, you didn’t want to think about that right now, but suffice it to say, you weren’t in the soundest state of mind. Flowey took full advantage of that fact, appearing to you to whisper things in your ears, things that your agitated mind had soaked up greedily. The flower had planted the seed of an idea in your brain, the idea of going through the Underground and mercilessly slaughtering every monster you came across - and like an idiot you agreed.

Even now, you can remember his words clearly, making your skin prickle. _“We can be so powerful together, you and I. Together, _____, we will take control of the Underground... and once we get past the barrier, we will have the power to rule the whole world.”_

The worst part is that, despite what you know about the little golden flower’s manipulative powers, that dark place inside you still craves his guidance, the words of affirmation and promises of power. You want that, and you can try to pretend you don’t, but you know it’ll still be there. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself.

Flowey gives an exaggerated sigh, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You’re an idiot,” he sneers. “I should’ve known your Soul wasn’t strong enough to finish the job. It looks like I have to do everything myself these days. And since you’ve outlived your usefulness…” His voice brightens again, faux-cheerful and utterly sadistic. “Well, it just so happens that killing you is the next thing on my list.”

You automatically reach for your knife, but your fingers close around empty air. Flowey cackles gleefully at your confusion. “Missing something?”

“Get out of my way,” you demand, but Flowey just grins at you.

“And who’s going to make me? You don’t even have a weapon.”

You open your mouth to reply, but you never get that far.

Something comes hurtling toward you from the right, and you step back just in time to avoid it. The object, which turns out to be a fireball, slams into Flowey instead. He’s knocked aside with a yelp, disappearing into the darkness further into the cave.

A tall white monster steps out of the shadows, wearing a concerned expression, and your heart twists. It’s Toriel, the goat woman who attempted to take you in when you first fell.

And you murdered her in cold blood.

“What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth…” she says, her soft brow furrowed. Then she turns to you, her voice becoming gentler. “Do not be afraid, my child. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down.”

That annoying thing called your conscience is pricking at your Soul again, and you do your best to ignore it. Still, you can’t quite bring yourself to meet Toriel’s concerned gaze.

“Oh! Please forgive my manners,” she exclaims. “What is your name, my child?”

You bite back a comment about how you’re not a child, figuring that to a boss monster like Toriel, everyone is probably a child. Scuffing your foot on the ground, you tell her your name quietly.

“_____? That is a wonderful name,” she says immediately, looking quite pleased. “Come with me, my child. It is quite unsafe for you to be on your own in the Ruins.”

You hesitate, not wanting to hurt her feelings but not wanting to be stuck with her, either. A sinister voice (that sounds suspiciously like Flowey) sneers in your mind, _Don’t you remember what you did last time? What you’re_ supposed _to do? Just kill her, and get the stupid old goat out of your way. You’re wasting time._

“I can manage on my own,” you tell her, a little more stiffly than you intend. “I appreciate your concern, though.”

Toriel looks distressed. “Oh, but…” she begins. “There are many puzzles in the Ruins, and perhaps you need a guide to show you which way to go.”

“Will you show me how to get out?” You’re being very blunt, but it’s the only thing you could think of to get her off your back without hurting her.

“How to…” Toriel seems at a loss for words, wringing her furry hands. “Oh, my. Well… you see, there have not been any humans here for a long time, and if you leave, I am afraid that… Asgore, our King, has been hunting humans, and without a doubt, he will try to kill you.”

You take the news in stride - you had already assumed, after all, that the king was after you. That was what Flowey had said, anyway. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here,” you say, trying to soften your voice a little. It doesn't really work, but at least you’re trying. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I need to leave.”

The goat woman sighs, clearly seeing that there’s no way to change your mind. “I see,” she says, sounding miserable. “Well, I suppose I cannot protect everybody. Especially since you are not as young as some of the other children who have fallen. Perhaps _you_ will be able to make Asgore see reason.”

You purse your lips. The way she speaks of the king is… interesting, to say the least. Maybe they used to be involved?

“Come with me,” says Toriel, looking unhappy. “I will show you the way out of the Ruins.”

* * *

Toriel leads you through the winding purple passageways of the Ruins, and despite her previous statement that you can take care of yourself, she still insists on solving every puzzle you come across for you. You have to admit, it’s a much faster way to get to where you need to go, and before too much time has passed you’ve reached her home.

“Well, here we are,” she says uncertainly, leading you down the stairs to her basement. “I know it is not much, but… you will not be staying here for long, after all.”

_‘Not long’_ _meaning about five seconds,_ you think dryly. You want to be in and out as quickly as possible, so that you can…

Huh. What exactly _is_ your goal once you leave the Ruins? You certainly aren’t eager to get back to the surface, contrary to what Toriel seems to believe. Life on the surface was never more than just something you were surviving. But you don’t know how well you’d manage living among monsters, either. Especially since you killed so many the first time you were here.

You push the thoughts away, frowning. By now, you’ve reached the exit to the Ruins, and you pause in front of the door, turning back to Toriel. “Thank you for helping me,” you say, feeling slightly awkward. “I really… appreciate it.”

Toriel smiles at you, looking sad. “I only wish I could have helped you more, my child,” she says. “Be good, alright?”

The words cut into you more than you’d like to admit, and you try not to wince. “Okay,” you mumble, and without any further words you push open the door and step into the hallway beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies about the lack of sans in this chapter. i was going to put him in, and then i started writing backstory and it got really long so i just decided to post this. i hope you guys enjoy uwu feedback is always appreciated!


	3. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans.

The room connected to the first hallway is identical to the one just past the hole you fell through, and you’re fully expecting Flowey to appear and continue to taunt you, but to your surprise, the room is empty. It’s unsettlingly silent, the weak sunlight shining down through a small hole onto a spot of patchy grass, and you pass through without incident.

It’s suspicious. Very suspicious. You’re not naïve enough to believe that he’s left you alone for good, and you know that he has the ability to leave the Ruins at will and pop up anywhere he wants. You’re going to have to watch your back and keep an eye out for him.

At the other end of the room is yet another heavy door, and you push it open, grunting with the effort. Damn. Why is it that doors that lead where you’re trying to go are always so huge? You aren’t cut out for this kind of physical exertion, you think irritably.

A blast of cold air hits you head-on the moment you leave the shelter of the Ruins, going straight through your thin hoodie and jeans. You shiver violently, letting the door swing shut on its own and wrapping your arms around yourself. You recognize your surroundings – you’re in Snowdin Forest, a snow-covered path stretching out in front of you and trees towering over you on both sides.

Well. There’s no time like the present, you suppose. And it won’t do you any good to stand around in the cold like an idiot.

So, forward it is.

You come across a huge, heavy-looking branch several yards down the path. You pause, contemplating whether or not you could break off part of it to use as some form of weapon, but ultimately decide against it. It’s too sturdy, and you don’t want to waste time trying to snap it.

Still shivering a bit, you continue on, hugging yourself. You don’t remember being this affected by the cold last time you were here… but maybe that’s because you were too focused on your mission to pay any attention.

That seems to be an ongoing trend with you. You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts that you almost miss the sound of a branch snapping behind you. 

The sharp  _ crack  _ rings out through the air, and you freeze in your tracks, your heart jumping into your throat. When you turn around, the path behind you is empty, but the branch is broken into three separate pieces.

Your pulse is rushing in your ears, but you clench your jaw determinedly and continue down the path. You aren’t sure it’s the best idea to turn your back on whatever broke that branch, but it’s not like you have many alternatives. What are you going to do, run crying back to the Ruins?

Not on your life.

Your footsteps crunch in the snow as you walk, and you silently wish you hadn’t come up here. If the Ruins opened to, say, Hotland, it would be much easier to tell if someone was following you. As it is, the sound of your own footsteps masks any possible sound of another, and you keep glancing over your shoulder every few seconds. You’re hoping you’re just being paranoid, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that you’re not alone.

Once, when you look back, you think you see a shadow, but when you blink, it’s gone. You shudder, your suspicions confirmed, and pick up the pace just a little.

You reach a bridge across a narrow ravine moments later. It looks rather unstable, especially with the bars stretching across either side. They look like they were built to keep people from crossing the bridge, but… the bars are so widely spaced that you could easily slip through.

The sound of footsteps behind you, slower and heavier than your own, reaches your ears, and you stiffen.  _ Damn it, _ you chant in your head as the sound grows closer,  _ damn it, why didn’t you pick up part of that branch, damn it, damn it – _

“ **H u m a n.** ”

A faint memory pricks at your mind, and you almost remember this –

“ **D o n ’ t  y o u  k n o w  h o w  t o  g r e e t  a  n e w  p a l ?** ”

Magic crackles in the air behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you should recognize the voice but you don’t –

“ **T u r n  a r o u n d  a n d  s h a k e  m y  h a n d.** ”

You whirl around, fists clenched. A short figure stands in front of you, wearing a blue jacket with a furry hood pulled up over his head, a white shirt, black gym shorts, and fluffy pink slippers. One of his hands is extended to you, bones even whiter than the snow around you.

_ Sans. _

“c’mon, pal. throw me a  _ bone  _ here.” He wiggles his phalanges teasingly, and you can see his grin from under his hood.

You glare at him fiercely, and he must get the message, because he withdraws his hand and tugs the hood off his head. He looks up at you, looking cheerful and lazy and nothing at all like the skeleton you knew during the last timeline.

“anyway,  _ ice  _ to meet ya,” he says with a low chuckle, seeming unfazed by your cold attitude – or maybe that’s why he chose that particular pun. “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

You’re silent, not offering him anything to work with.

Sans’s grin seems to falter slightly. “heh,  _ icy  _ you aren’t in the mood for jokes,” he says. “ _ snow  _ problem. i have other methods of gettin’ you to crack.”

You continue to glare at him, and after a moment, his white pupils get a little bit bigger. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, can see the moment he puts the pieces together. 

“ok.” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his smile twisting into something more like a grimace. “alright. guessing we weren’t too fond of each other in another timeline.”

“Hardly,” you snap, hands clenched into fists. 

Sans looks distinctly uncomfortable, shifting his weight back and forth. “mind, uh, tellin’ me what i did that’s got you so worked up, kid?”

The nickname is like rubbing salt in a wound, and your glare increases tenfold. “Why should I?” 

“‘cause, if you don’t, i can’t exactly apologize for it, hehe.” He shrugs, his grin returning. “look, just say the word if i’m  _ getting under your skin _ , and i’ll go.”

“Get out of here,” you say immediately, and Sans holds up his hands in surrender, taking a step back.

“ok. got it. but, uh, you might wanna watch out for my brother papyrus. he’s something of a human-hunting fanatic, and he’s never seen one before. don’t want you getting yourself into a situation you can’t get out of, kiddo.”

_ Brother?  _ Shit, you completely forgot about Papyrus. Although,  _ how _ you could have forgotten the tall, puzzle-loving, spaghetti connoisseur of a skeleton is beyond you.

“in fact, i think he might be headed this way,” Sans adds, rather unhelpfully. 

“Shit,” you say. “Um…”

“need a place to hide?” Sans is loving this; he may not know why you hate him, but he’s clearly enjoying seeing you squirm, judging from the way he’s smirking at you.

You clench your jaw, furious – at the situation, at Sans, at yourself. The problem is, you  _ do  _ need somewhere to hide if you don't want to be caught by Papyrus, so you really have no choice but to accept Sans’s offer of help.

“Fine,” you mutter.

“what was that?” Sans purrs. “can’t hear ya, kid.”

“Shut the hell up, you heard me just fine,” you hiss. “Just help me!”

He appears to consider it, looking incredibly smug. “hmm… not sure i like your tone, buddy. what’s the magic word?”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “Please,” you say through gritted teeth.

He laughs, the sound making you shiver. “well, since you asked so nicely…”

Your eyes fly open as Sans’s fingers wrap around your wrist. You open your mouth to protest, but his left eye flashes blue, and with a blip the woods of Snowdin are gone and you’re suddenly somewhere else.

Sans lets go of you, and you stumble, your head spinning. You feel nauseous and dizzy, and the whole world is tilting on its axis. “What… what the hell…” you gasp, pressing a hand to your forehead as you fight to keep your balance. You ultimately lose the battle with gravity, and now you’re staring up at Sans’s grinning face from the floor.

“sorry ‘bout that.” He doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “teleporting humans can be a little... disorienting, heh.”

“A _ little _ ?!” you splutter, glaring up at him.

“or a lot.” He gives you a shit-eating grin. “that was my hypothesis, anyway. you’ve proved me right.”

Oh. You wince at the phrase, an echo of his words from before the reset.  _ “it’d be nice to be proved right for once.” _

“man, if i knew it was gonna be that easy to get you to  _ fall _ for me…” he says, shaking his head and laughing. “c’mon,” he adds before you can react, holding out his hand. “let’s get you off the floor and into an actual chair.” 

You take his hand warily, and he pulls you to your feet, then moves his hand to your elbow. His touch is surprisingly light as he guides you over to a couch.

You sit gratefully, and the throbbing in your head begins to subside. When you finally stop feeling like you’re about to throw up, you take a look at your surroundings, and what you see is… not what you expected. 

You’re in a house, smallish but cozy. The walls are an orange sort of color, and across from the green couch you’re sitting on is a TV. You can see a doorway to the right that leads to a kitchen, and on the left is a set of stairs that you assume leads to the bedrooms. With a sinking feeling you realize where you must be.

In Sans and Papyrus’s house.

“Why the hell did you bring me  _ here _ ?” you demand, looking up at the shorter skeleton.

“it was the first place i thought of.” Sans shrugs. “plus, i’m supposed to be on watch for humans, and we’re supposed to capture any we find. so if you’re here, i don’t have to be at my post,  _ and _ i can keep an eyesocket on ya.”

You stand up, ignoring the rush of dizziness that comes over you again. “I’m leaving.”

Sans is beside you in an instant, but thankfully he doesn’t touch you again. “sorry, kid. you aren’t going anywhere.” He still has that lazy, laid-back tone, but his eyes are alert, white lights shrinking to pinpricks, and you’re reminded uncomfortably that he’s a lot stronger than he looks. 

“What if Papyrus comes back and sees me?” you challenge him, sitting down again. “Didn’t you say he’s supposed to capture humans? If he finds me here, he’ll turn me in, won’t he?”

“well, you’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see you, then.” Sans smirks at you. “but he’s not here. so you might as well stay, if only to keep me from getting  _ bonely _ .”

God, he’s right. And as much as you hate him, you have to admit it makes sense. As long as Papyrus is out of the house, it’s the safest place for you to be. 

“I couldn’t care less whether you’re lonely or not,” you say after a pause, “but… to  _ patella  _ the truth, you’re probably right.”

“heh. good one, kid.” Sans looks delighted at your pun. “y’know, i never caught your name.”

“Didn’t throw it,” you say acidly. “Just because I’m staying here –  _ for now  _ – doesn’t mean I’m going to become your friend or anything like that.”

Sans looks a little taken aback. “alright, alright.” He sits beside you, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. “i may be  _ heartless  _ but even i can tell when someone wants to be left alone.”

“Thanks,” you mumble grudgingly, bringing your knees up to your chest.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “but, y’know, there’s no harm done in just telling me your name. it’s not like you’re selling your soul away or something.

“Sans,” you say, exasperated.

“wow. your name is sans too?” He chuckles. “what a coincidence.”

“Sans!” You roll your eyes, irritated. “Fine. God, fine, you win. My name is _____.”

“_____, huh?” He muses over it, tapping his thin, skeletal fingers against his leg. “_____.”

“Yes,” you say with a sigh.

“_____.” He draws your name out slowly, still giving you that infuriating grin.

“Stop it,” you snap, feeling your cheeks flush a little bit.

Sans winks at you. “ok, kid, i can’t tell a  _ fibula _ . i just like messing with you. s’fun.”

You set your jaw, not deigning to humor him with a response. If he knew what had happened in the previous timeline, would he be so eager to tease you?

It’s going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this might actually be the most regular update schedule ive ever had ahaha;;


	4. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans discovers the reason you reset, featuring a cameo by Papyrus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for not updating sooner!! i was super busy, but i'm about to be on spring break, so i'll have more time to write.
> 
> please be sure to leave a comment and let me know what you thought! any feedback is appreciated :)

Silence falls between you and Sans, heavy and oppressive. You sit on one side of the couch, your head still pulsing with a lingering ache, and he sits on the other side, though closer to the middle than you. About six inches separate the two of you, but you wish it was more.

The silence is really getting to you. You can’t stop hearing voices – Flowey’s voice, mostly, but others as well, monsters that you’d killed.

_ “We’ll be so powerful… All you have to do is kill them. Kill them all…” _

_ “If you think I’m gonna give up hope, you're wrong. Cause I’ve… got my friends behind me.” _

_ “In this world, it’s kill or be killed.” _

_ “I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO! I… I PROMISE…” _

_ “Let’s destroy everything in this wretched world. Everyone, everything in these worthless memories… let’s turn ‘em all to dust.” _

_ “on days like these, kids like you…  _ **_S h o u l d  b e  b u r n i n g  i n  h e l l._ ** _ ” _

Abruptly you sit up straight, body jerking, and Sans jumps a little at the sudden movement. “uh… you ok?” he asks.

“I’m bored,” you mumble, annoyed. You hate this feeling, the way you can’t decide if your actions were justified or if you’re repulsed by yourself. “Can’t we do something other than just sit here?”

Sans winks at you. “ok. why don’t we talk?” he says.

You have a bad feeling about this. “Talk?” you repeat suspiciously.

The skeleton slides closer to you, and you lean away, uncomfortable. “tell me about yourself, _____. your hopes, your dreams…” His eye sockets darken. “your previous timeline…”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t get me to talk about it, Sans,” you drawl. “Anyway, with how smart you are, I thought you’d have figured it out by now. Guess you really are a  _ bonehead. _ ”

“yep,” Sans agrees cheerfully as the lights come back into his eyes, leaning back into the couch cushions again (to your relief). “i’ll get it out of ya eventually.”

“You really won’t,” you tell him dryly.

“just watch me.” He winks at you again, and you feel your face heat up with irritation.

Another minute or so of silence passes, and when you hear Sans’s voice in your mind whisper,  _ “do you wanna have a bad time?” _ you snap again.

“Can’t we just, like, God. I don’t know,” you say. “Turn on the TV or something?”

“wow, you must really be bored.” Sans chuckles. “sorry i’m not the best company.”

“I asked you a question.”

He shrugs. “sorry, pal, but you’re technically my prisoner. i dunno if you have any television rights.”

You grit your teeth, trying to rein in your frustration but failing; it bleeds through into your speech. “If you aren’t going to let me do anything, why keep me here? What if I get  _ really  _ bored, Sans?”

There’s a pause before Sans laughs incredulously. “are you threatening me?”

Are you?

Sans takes your lack of an answer as a yes. “kid, that’s really not a good idea,” he says. “if you try to fight me… you’re gonna have a bad time.”

You freeze, your fists clenching by your side. “I know,” you say without thinking.

He goes still, and you glance over at him with a growing sense of dread to see a grimace pulling the corners of his grin downward. “i see,” he says.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay,” you blurt out, growing increasingly flustered (and, by extension, angry). “We fought. So what? It doesn’t mean anything.” You stand up quickly, glad your head has stopped spinning – you’re prepared to get out fast if things start to go south.

Sans gets to his feet as well, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. “heh. i might’ve guessed,” he says. “i mean, i figured you must’ve killed somebody i cared about in the other timeline, like paps or maybe that lady in the ruins. but i didn’t figure you to be genocidal.”

The inside of your mouth feels dry, and you swallow reflexively. How the hell does he… “What are you talking about?” you say.

His eyes are pitch-black, grin wide, and oh, that is _not_ a good sign. “promised myself i’d only ever step in if things got bad. real bad. otherwise, it was all gonna get reset, so what was the point, right? but if you had to fight me…” The short skeleton lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “so tell me, kid. why’d ya come back? didja get bored of killing, maybe had a change of heart? heh heh heh… nah, it’s more likely you killed every single one of us and came back to do it again. don’t you have anything better to do than slaughter innocent monsters?”

His speech makes your Soul throb with guilt, and you push the feeling away, scowling. “Shut up,” you say. “I came back because… well…”

Sans waits, watching you with pupil-less eyes, as you struggle to come up with an excuse that isn’t  _ “you beat me up and I was a coward and didn’t really want to kill anyone anymore” _ . None comes, and at last you sigh, defeated.

“I… couldn’t beat you,” you admit, looking away. “You killed me too many times, and I was getting exhausted. I was tired of it. Then you asked me to stop.”

“and ya did?” Sans laughs darkly. “thought you hated me or something.”

You glare at him. “I  _ do _ hate you,” you insist. “But you said you’d destroy the SAVE point if I didn’t reset, so I had no choice.”

Sans’s eyes widen, the white lights shining again. “huh. really? i must’ve seen somethin’ in you after all,” he says.

Your face flushes slightly, and you turn your head away. “Besides,” you say, “I didn’t really want to keep killing monsters anymore.”

“and why’s that?” Sans tips his head, looking at you in a way that suggests he can see straight through to your Soul. It’s more than a little unnerving, and you stiffen.

“It was boring and took too much effort,” you say and purse your lips, once more shoving your guilty conscience under the metaphorical rug. “So it’s honestly kind of refreshing to come back and not have to worry about it, even though it was a setback to my original plan.”

Sans opens his mouth, but you never get to hear his reply, because another voice from outside interrupts him.

A very loud voice.

“SANS!!!”

The skeleton beside you freezes. “shit. papyrus is home,” he says, as if that wasn’t obvious. “he must’ve seen that i wasn’t at my post and came to look for me.”

“SANS, YOU LAZYBONES, WHERE ARE YOU?”

“get in the kitchen,” Sans says suddenly, turning to you.

“What –?”

“go.  _ now. _ ” He puts a bony hand on your shoulder, giving you a little nudge. “there’s a cupboard under the sink, should be empty. hide in there.”

“But –” you splutter.

Sans’s left eye glows blue. “don’t make me put you there myself, kiddo,” he growls. “thought ya didn’t want to get caught. go hide.”

You clench your jaw and glare at him as vehemently as you can, refusing to budge, until –

“SANS! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” The doorknob jiggles, but Sans must have locked it. “I DEMAND YOU LET ME IN!”

Sans gives you a look. “i can’t ignore him forever, kid. make your choice.”

You huff, your survival instinct overpowering your stubborn nature, and turn away from Sans. You slip into the kitchen, pulling open the (fortunately roomy) cupboard under the sink and concealing yourself inside, and just in time, too – you hear the front door open mere moments after you shut the cupboard.

“SANS!” Papyrus is even louder once he’s inside. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU LAZYBONES? YOU’RE SLACKING OFF WORK WHILE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM FORCED TO WORK TWICE AS HARD!”

“hey, bro.” Sans sounds utterly relaxed, with no hint of the intensity he’d just displayed with you. “sorry. just came back here to take care of some things.” 

“WHAT ‘THINGS’?” Papyrus sounds more annoyed than you’ve ever heard him. “WHAT IF A HUMAN APPEARED WHILE YOU WERE HERE? WE COULD HAVE MISSED THEM! I MUST CAPTURE A HUMAN SO I CAN –”

“so you can become a member of the royal guard. i know, paps,” says Sans. “but look, what if i told you that i found a human?”

Your eyes widen.  _ That little… _

“WHAT?! YOU DID? WHERE ARE THEY?” Papyrus sounds like he’s practically bouncing up and down. “CAN I CAPTURE THEM?”

“sure, buddy. but, uh, they aren’t here right now. i captured them and put them somewhere else. why don’t we bring them over for dinner and you can make them some of your spaghetti or something?”

“REALLY?!” Papyrus sounds elated. Well, at least one of you is excited. 

“really, bro.”

“IT IS DECIDED, THEN. SANS, YOU WILL RETURN TO YOUR STATION, AND TONIGHT YOU WILL BRING THE HUMAN HERE SO THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN MAKE THEM MY SPAGHETTI AND CONFOUND THEM WITH MY PUZZLES. THEN, THEY WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LET ME CAPTURE THEM! UNDYNE WILL BE SO PROUD! NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH-HEH!” The door opens and then closes again, indicating Papyrus’s exit.

Undyne. Just the name makes you sweat a little. The fish-like monster had been particularly difficult to beat. She had been almost as determined as you were. You remember feeling nothing but relief when you finally defeated her, but now the memory just makes you uncomfortable.

The cupboard opens suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you yelp, looking up to see Sans grinning at you. 

“well, kid, looks like you’ve got a date with me and my brother tonight.”


	5. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sans take a walk.

“Sans!” You climb out of the cupboard with as much dignity as you can muster, glaring at him all the while. You feel a rush of relief when you’re standing upright; you’re a few inches taller than Sans, and you feel like the height gives you an advantage.

But Sans clearly isn’t intimidated. Instead, he gives you an easy, innocent smile. “what is it, kid?” he asks, voice smooth.

“Why did you tell Papyrus about me?!” you demand. “I thought the point was for him  _ not  _ to know!”

“it’ll make things easier for you,” Sans points out. “you won’t have to keep hiding from him, and since i told him about you now, it’ll give him time to get used to the idea of a human before he actually sees you. and besides,” he pauses to chuckle, “it’s not like you can do anything about it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, glowering. “I’m leaving,” you say. “I’ll just walk out right now and go to Waterfall or Hotland.”

“aw, you wouldn’t leave us for undyne,” Sans says, winking at you and sending a shiver down your spine. “and besides, would you really want to break a date with this poor bag of bones?”

To your eternal mortification, you actually blush. “A date,” you say, deadpan, in an attempt to cover up your embarrassment. “With your brother, who wants to capture me and take me to the king, who wants to take my Soul... and  _ you _ , who tried to kill me more times than I can count. That sounds like a  _ great  _ idea.”

“doesn’t it?” Sans is unfazed by your sarcasm. “heh, i thought so, too. y’know, this way, you can get the whole ‘meeting-the-family’ thing out of the way first thing.”

Oh, God. He is insufferable.

“also…  _ tried  _ to kill you? pretty sure i  _ succeeded _ , pal,” he adds. “so it’s not like you can fight me.”

Frustration at your lack of control over the situation flares up in you, bright and sudden, and you find yourself automatically reaching for your knife before remembering that you don’t have it anymore.  _ Fuck,  _ that’s right, you reset. The knife you had been using is probably still back in New Home or wherever it was that you had found it.

“missing something?” The words are the same as the ones Flowey spoke, but Sans is more amused and less, well,  _ evil _ than the tiny flower. 

“Fuck you,” you say, seething. “If I had my knife right now –”

Sans’s eye flashes. “kiddo, if you had your knife right now, you’d be dead where you stand,” he says calmly.

You bite your lip, furious. You’re weak and you know it – without your knife, not to mention the determination it takes to do what was once easy for you, you’re powerless. 

“Fuck you, Sans,” you repeat, for lack of anything better to say.

“buy me dinner first,” he drawls in return, smirking at your shocked expression. 

You don’t know how he does it, but somehow he always manages to catch you off-guard. All you can do is glare at him, cheeks slightly flushed with annoyance. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” you say.

“ _ tibia  _ honest…” Sans’s expression grows serious. “no, i can’t. and you know why. i can’t just let you go, pal. who knows what might happen if a human like you was loose in the underground?”

You’re about to protest that you wouldn’t kill anyone, but the words die on your lips when  you realize that you literally just threatened him thirty seconds ago and you’re in no position to be claiming innocence. 

“Fine,” you grumble. “But I’m going to go walk around outside, and you’re not stopping me.” You need a chance to clear your head and breathe in the (relatively) fresh air outside.

“sure thing.” Sans shrugs. “but i’m coming with ya.”

You hate your life.

* * *

 

Sans has to sneak you out of the house and through the village in order to get to the forest again, which proves to be more challenging than it ought to be, considering that he can literally  _ teleport  _ or something, but when you ask him why he’s making you take the long way, he just grins and tells you he’s too lazy to use his magic. Figures.

It’s only once you’re actually clear of the danger of being sighted that you realize just how cold it is out here. In retrospect, leaving the warmth and relative safety of the skeleton brothers’ house may not have been the best idea. But, well, you’re not going back on your decision now. Your pride won’t let you. 

Even if it means freezing your ass off.

“you cold, kid?” Sans asks you, tone laced with amusement as he watches you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of your thin hoodie. 

“I’m fine,” you say, hunching your shoulders against the slight breeze. Really, it wouldn’t be so bad if you had something even a little bit warmer on.

You can feel Sans watching you, and you lift your chin defiantly, continuing to trudge on through the snow-covered trees. If you won’t admit to yourself that you want to go back, you  _ definitely  _ won’t admit it to him.

Neither of you speak, and the only sound is that of your footsteps and his crunching in the white powder beneath your feet. You don’t really know where you’re going, other than deeper into the woods, but that’s fine with you. The quiet is actually rather nice.

Still, you feel a bit awkward, and you decide to try to make a bit of conversation. “So, how does it snow down here, anyway?” you ask.

You see Sans shrug out of the corner of your eye; he’s walking to your right and slightly behind you. “magic,” he says. “the different regions’ weather are generated by both the core and the monsters that live there.”

“I see.” 

You bite your lip in the pause that follows, half-wishing you had kept your mouth shut. Actually, you’re curious to know more, but you think your interest might come across as some kind of malicious intent.

A violent shudder wracks your body and makes your teeth chatter. Your fingers are icy in your pockets, and the tip of your nose is numb. Maybe you really should go back to the house –

A soft object hits your back with little force, and something fluffy brushes your cheek. There’s a lingering sensation of thin, bony fingers through thick fabric on your shoulders, but it’s gone as soon as you recognize the feeling. You look down in surprise, hands lifting out of your pockets and grasping the edges of Sans’s blue hoodie.

What…?

When you glance over at the short skeleton, his face is turned away from you, but you think you can spot the hint of a blue blush on his cheekbones. “it won’t do either of us any good for ya to freeze to death out here,” he says. “after all, you have a commitment to keep, dontcha?”

You’re torn between frustration, embarrassment, and mild gratitude, and eventually settle for a noncommittal grunt as you push your arms through the sleeves and zip it up. It’s quite warm and surprisingly big, the sleeves extending almost to your fingertips, and you curl your fingers around the ends before placing your hands in the pockets. 

Your cheeks feel warm when you steal another glance at Sans, and you aren’t sure it has anything to do with the cold.

Goddammit.

“Wait, aren’t you going to be cold without this?” you ask suddenly, and just like that whatever little moment you two had going on is over. You don’t know whether you’re glad or disappointed.

Sans shrugs. “nah. the cold goes  _ right through me _ ,” he says, with a little chuckle. And, okay, it’s stupid and you’re sure he’s used it a hundred times, but you can’t contain a tiny snort of amusement.

“God, that was awful,” you say, shaking your head. 

“aw, that one didn’t tickle your  _ funny bone _ ?” Sans grins. “guess it wasn’t that  _ humerus _ , huh. i’ll have to try harder.”

You laugh, and then it hits you that, shit, you’re actually getting along. This is  _ Sans _ , the monster that killed you dozens of times, and you’re talking to him and joking with him and  _ wearing his fucking hoodie  _ like it was  _ nothing _ . This is not okay.

You immediately sober, clenching your fists inside your pockets, and Sans seems to notice your shift in mood, because his grin fades - well, as much as it can fade, anyway. “ok, maybe we should be heading back soon,” he says, stopping. “it’s getting close to dinnertime, and paps doesn’t like it when i’m late for spaghetti.”

“How do you even know when it’s evening here, without a sun or anything?” you grumble, but you obligingly turn around and begin to head back the way you came.

“magic.” 

“Of course,” you say.

He smiles, but it’s subdued, and you feel the tiniest bit bad for ruining the easy mood between you. 

But it’s not like you’re ever going to be friends, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that little bit of fluff in the midst of all the angst... it fills you with determination


	6. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Papyrus.

Sans holds the door for you when you get back to their house, winking boldly at you. Irritated, you take off his jacket and ball it up in your hands, throwing it at him. It hits him squarely in the chest, but he’s not fazed in the slightest. He just chuckles, catching the lump of fabric in his hands and shaking it out before slipping it back on.

“hey, papyrus?” Sans calls out as he closes the front door behind himself.

A tall, lanky skeleton pokes his head out of the kitchen. On his head is perched a chef’s hat at a jaunty angle, and you can just make out that he’s wearing an apron that reads “Kiss the Skeleton”.

“SANS!” he shouts, and despite yourself, you jump a little at the volume of his voice. “DID YOU BRING THE HUMAN?”

“yep.” Sans reaches back to put his hand on your lower back, drawing you forward. “here they are.”

Your face flushes uncomfortably under Papyrus’s stare. You’ve already met him in another timeline, back when you were just starting to become numb to the destruction you were causing. When you’d killed him, you weren’t fully hardened to it yet, and the sight of the friendly skeleton’s dust-covered scarf lying in the snow had you sobbing rather embarrassingly.

“HELLO, HUMAN! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” The enthusiastic voice brings you back into reality and you blink to see a bony hand extended toward your face in greeting.

“H-hey,” you say a bit weakly, introducing yourself and shaking his hand. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”

Sans is giving you an odd look, but Papyrus seems oblivious to your discomfort. “IT IS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU AS WELL, HUMAN! I, MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS, AM PREPARING A DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI MEAL FOR THE THREE OF US! THEN YOU WILL BE SO ENTHRALLED BY MY COOKING THAT YOU WILL ALLOW ME TO CAPTURE YOU AND SEND YOU TO THE CAPITAL! NYEH-HEH-HEH!”

Papyrus is a little much for you to handle right now, so you just nod. “Looking forward to it,” you say awkwardly, attempting to smile.

He beams apparently buying it, and you can’t decide whether you feel relieved or just really guilty. “EXCELLENT! NOW, I MUST GET BACK TO MY COOKING. MY BROTHER SANS WILL KEEP YOU ENTERTAINED UNTIL IT IS READY!”

“I’m sure he will,” you grumble under your breath. Fortunately, Papyrus doesn’t hear you; he just cackles again and disappears back into the kitchen.

Sans is still giving you that look. “have a seat,” he tells you after a pause, gesturing at the couch.

Unease coils in your gut as you sit down, folding your hands over your knee. Sans sits beside you, smoothing his fingers over his jacket.

“so,” he says casually, glancing at you. “you seem pretty nervous around paps. any reason why that might be?”

“Maybe I’m just worried he’s going to bring Undyne here,” you retort. It’s not a lie, so why do your ears feel like they’re burning?

“maybe.” He shrugs, clearly dissatisfied with your answer as his grin grows just a bit. “heh, maybe ‘nervous’ was the wrong word to use. if i didn’t know better, i’d think you felt _guilty_.”

You feel your sins weighing on your neck.

Sans is watching you very carefully, you realize. Watching your every move. He’s waiting to see if you’re a threat to his brother.

For some reason, frustration bubbles up in you, and you turn to him, whispering heatedly, “Of _course_ I feel fucking guilty, Sans. Why the fuck do you _think_ I’m uncomfortable? His dust was on my hands in the last timeline, and that’s not something that’s easy to forget. Not for me, anyway.”

Sans stares at you, his eye sockets wider than you’ve ever seen them. The silence stretches on, and you feel increasingly more unsettled as the seconds pass, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

Abruptly he takes your hand in both of his, and you stiffen, alarm bells ringing in your head. He turns it over and skims his hard fingers over your palm, his gaze dropping to your hand. Tracing the fine lines in your palm, running his fingertips down your fingers… he seems fascinated by your skin, and you can’t tell if it’s relaxing or even more disconcerting than the prolonged eye contact.

“dust on your hands, huh?” he murmurs, and a chill zips down your spine at his low voice. “well, i dunno what you see, but your hands look pretty clean to me.”

_What?_

Sans looks up at you, and your face must show your confusion, because he chuckles slightly. “i can tell you’re starting to regret what you did. that little speech there proved it. whatever you did before, you haven’t done it again. that’s gotta count for something, right?” You can tell how hard it is for him to say this, and something about that makes your Soul twinge uncomfortably.

“Um,” you say, flustered. Your voice comes out much softer than you intended, but you don’t get any further than that, because Papyrus chooses that exact moment to burst out of the kitchen.

“THE SPAGHETTI IS READY!” he declares gleefully.

You and Sans jump apart like magnets repelling each other, cheeks matching shades of red and blue. He drops your hand like it’s burned him, shoving both of his deep into his pockets, while you fold yours in your lap.

Papyrus looks back and forth between the two of you. “WERE YOU JUST… HOLDING HANDS?” he asks, sounding suspicious.

“N-no!” you splutter, blushing even harder. God. You’re acting like a teenager who just got caught making out or something – _which would never happen with you and Sans, thank you very much._

Sans is much more relaxed, although there’s still a telltale cerulean flush on his cheeks, and his skull is sweating a little bit. “nah. why would i be holding their hand, bro?”

“I THOUGHT I SAW…” Papyrus frowns, shaking his head as if to clear it, and you’ve never been more grateful for his one-track mind. “NEVER MIND THAT. MY SPAGHETTI MASTERPIECE IS FINISHED! HUMAN, YOU MUST COME TRY IT!”

“I’ll be right there,” you tell him, getting up.

Papyrus ducks back into the kitchen, presumably to make you a plate, and you turn to Sans, who is still sprawled out on the couch. “Are you coming?” you ask stiffly.

He gives you a lazy grin. “sure. why don’t you give me a _hand_?” he purrs.

Oh, fuck. He’s never going to let this go, is he?

“Asshole,” you growl, turning on your heel and storming away.

Sans’s laughter follows you all the way to the kitchen.

* * *

Papyrus’s spaghetti is… words can’t describe it, really. You manage to actually finish what’s on your plate, though it’s an effort, and you have to turn down seconds. But you can’t quite bring yourself to tell him how shit it is. After all, it’s not like you could make it any better.

So you tell him it’s great. You’re rewarded with an ecstatic grin, a _bone_ -crushing hug (oh, god, Sans is rubbing off on you), and a proclamation that “I THINK YOU AND I CAN BECOME GOOD FRIENDS, HUMAN!”

“Um… so you’re not going to capture me?” you ask warily, extracting yourself from Papyrus’s bony arms.

“WELL…” He appears to be seriously considering it, and you have a brief moment of panic before he sighs deeply. “I DO NOT KNOW. YOU LIKE MY SPAGHETTI, AND SANS LIKES YOU…”

“ _What_?” you say, but he ignores you.

“UNDYNE SAID I WAS SUPPOSED TO BRING HER ANY HUMAN WHO PASSED THROUGH HERE, BUT YOU SEEM LIKE A NICE HUMAN. I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU, BUT IF I DON’T TURN YOU IN TO UNDYNE…”

Papyrus trails off again, and you fidget, discomfort making your palms sweat. _Please let me go, please let me go…_ you chant internally.

“HUMAN! I HAVE COME TO A DECISION!” he says suddenly, and you jump again, startled by his loud voice.

“And?” you question him, biting your lip. Fuck, you’re nervous.

“I HAVE DECIDED… TO SHOW YOU MERCY.”

You let out a breath, nodding. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Okay. That’s – thank you, Papyrus.”

The tall skeleton gives you a comforting pat on the shoulder. “DON’T WORRY, ______,” he says kindly. “I WILL NOT TELL UNDYNE YOU ARE HERE… ON ONE CONDITION, THAT IS.”

Your fingers clench. “W-what is it?”

Papyrus’s eyes sparkle. “YOU MUST BE MY FRIEND – NO, MY _BEST_ FRIEND!” he announces.

You can only stare at him.

“OF COURSE, I ALREADY KNOW YOU WILL AGREE. NO ONE CAN RESIST THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” he continues, his scarf fluttering dramatically as if caught by a wind even though you’re still standing in the kitchen together – how does he _do_ that? “NO ONE WOULD BE ABLE TO DENY THE SHEER JOY OF BEING MY BEST FRIEND! NYEH-HEH-HEH! SO, WHAT DO YOU SAY, HUMAN?”

Well, when put that way, it seems to be your only option.

You extend your hand to Papyrus, smiling. “I agree to your terms,” you say. “I’ll be friends with you, Papyrus.”

“BEST FRIENDS,” he corrects you.

You laugh, and it’s surprisingly genuine. “Yeah, best friends.”

He shakes your hand then, radiant. “WOWIE! I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M FRIENDS WITH A HUMAN NOW!” he gushes.

“wow.” Sans appears with his hands in his pockets, leaned against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you. “c’mon, _____, you wouldn’t shake my hand but you’ve already shaken his twice already? i feel pretty _left_ out,” he says, and it takes you a second to realize – he just made a fucking pun about being left-handed.

“SANS!” Papyrus appears to have caught it as well.

“what can i say? you fit _right_ in, kid,” Sans adds, smirking.

“OH MY GOD, SANS.” Papyrus looks like he’s seriously considering turning his brother to dust. Meanwhile, you’re fighting back giggles, and you cover your mouth to hide it.

Sans glances at you. “at least someone appreciates my puns,” he says.

“NOOOO!” Papyrus is devastated, clutching his head in anguish. “THIS HUMAN IS ACTUALLY A HUGE DORK!”

“Don’t blow my cover,” you chuckle.

It’s still a bit difficult to pretend everything is okay, and you still feel that guilt churning in your stomach, but you think things are going to be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so this chapter went in a... completely different direction than i intended??? umm... that hand-holding scene was not in the draft at _all_ , but after writing it i decided to keep it. & originally i would've written the whole dinner scene out, but i decided to cut it because i honestly had no ideas for it. that's why this chapter took so long... i'm sorry. ;u;
> 
> feedback is always welcome! i appreciate all the comments & kudos i've been getting so far! thank you all so much!


	7. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KARMA coursing through your veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this chapter. It's not much worse than the prologue, but just in case.

Blue.

Red.

Blue.

Red.

Blue.

You slam into the ground for what feels like the millionth time, coughing as the breath is expelled from your lungs. You struggle back to your feet despite the aching in your body, and you leap aside just in time to avoid a flurry of bones.

Sans is watching you with a neutral expression, his grin hollow and a blue glow emanating from his left eye. The golden light coming from the windows illuminates the other side of his face. “come on, _____,” he says, and he’s not taunting you, he just sounds tired. “give up already.”

“ _ Never _ ,” you say, biting your lip and tasting blood. You lunge at him, knife outstretched, but he steps aside. Like he always does.

Massive skulls materialize in the air all around you, and you have to work to dodge the blasts from their mouths. A few singe you anyway, and even after the sharp sting is gone, you can feel a burning pain coursing through your veins. Poison, maybe. You never bothered to ask.

You swing your knife again, and again you miss. Fucking skeleton, always dodging your attacks, if he would just hold still for one damn turn –

There’s a pinch in your chest, and you look down to see three white bones protruding from the center of your abdomen, blood already beginning to seep from the puncture holes.

You look up, eyes wide and mouth opening like you’re going to speak, but all that comes out is a faint choking sound.

Sans looks… disappointed, which is not what you expected. Suddenly he’s in front of you, a hand cupping your jaw as you fall to your knees. He’s kneeling with you, and you grip his shoulder for stability, and his eyes are sad somehow as his thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth, wiping away a drop of blood.

“i tried to tell you,” he says.

“… Fuck off,” you manage, but there’s no intent behind it. 

He just smiles and closes his eyes, and it suddenly hits you that this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. This is your chance to kill him, you can finally –

Your arm jerks up, and you drive your knife into his ribs. The blade rips through fabric first, and then strikes bone.

Sans’s eyes open wide, and his grin is a grimace as he stares at you in absolute shock, fingers twitching where they still rest on your cheek.

_ That’s what you get for letting your guard down, you stupid skeleton. _

You stare at him, but the light is beginning to leave his eyes, and you can feel your own life slipping out of your grasp. Sans is already turning to dust in your arms, and you’re already dying in his.

* * *

“_____.”

_ No! Leave me alone!  _ you shout.

“_____, wake up.”

_ Wake up?  _ But you’re not…

“_____!”

You bolt upright, eyes flying open and fingers clutching desperately at your chest, twisting in the fabric of your T-shirt. It’s dark, too dark, and for a second you think you’re really dead. You look around wildly, trying to get your bearings. You’re on a green sofa, there’s a TV across the room from you, and a short skeleton is kneeling beside you, hand hovering over your shoulder, concern and surprise etched into his features.

You begin to relax minutely as the memories come back. This is Sans and Papyrus’s house. After you ate, the brothers invited you to stay the night on their couch instead of at the inn. Sans suggested it – to keep an eye on you, you guessed – and Papyrus took to the idea with his characteristic enthusiasm. You’d lain awake for an hour or more after they had gone to bed, finally slipping into a restless sleep.

So, that was a dream, then. You think you’re relieved, but it’s hard to be sure.

“uh, _____?” Sans says your name again, looking almost… afraid? “are you all right?”

_ All right?  _ You want to laugh, and you have to swallow hard to keep it from bursting out of your mouth. But that would probably just freak Sans out more. Might make him jump _ out of his skin. _

Once again you bite back the hysterical giggle that rises in your chest. “Why are you down here? Why did you wake me up?” you ask instead, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Sans shifts, clearly still wary. “you were screaming, _____,” he says, lowering his hand. You don’t like the way he keeps using your name. “screamin’ like you were dying. i thought you were being attacked or something. did you have a nightmare?”

“A… nightmare. Yes.” You think of the look on his face in your dream when you stabbed him. Fuck, you  _ killed Sans _ in a  _ dream. _ Maybe that should’ve been the indicator that you were dreaming, you think. You never were able to kill him for real. “Did I wake Papyrus?”

“no, paps is a pretty heavy sleeper. and don’t worry,” he adds, as if you  _ would _ be worried, “you didn’t wake me up either. i was already awake.”

“Oh.” The urge to laugh is gone, and you feel sick now, like you’re going to vomit. You’re shaking, and Sans notices.

“hey,” he says gently, too gently. He touches your shoulder, and you jerk away.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap.

“ok. ok, i won’t,” he says, leaning back a little and holding his hands up. “i have nightmares sometimes too, ya know. it can help to talk about them. but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. i won’t make ya.”

“Thank you,” you mutter. It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“don’t sweat it, kid,” he says, and  _ that’s _ what you’re used to, the stupid way he always calls you kid even though you aren’t a child anymore. It’s annoying as hell but it’s better than before, when he kept saying your name in that gentle voice that makes you forget how you’re supposed to hate him. “do you want me to stay here with you for a bit?”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “No, you can go back to bed,” you say wearily, because you’re so tired, tired of the guilt and the voice in your head that wants you to kill no matter how much you try to push it away. Even now you can feel your fingers itching with the urge to grab a knife and slash it across his chest, watch him disintegrate into nothing and smear his dust over your hands. When you’re alone it’s easier to ignore, but when other monsters are around and you’re tired and off your guard it’s not so simple.

“if you say so. are you gonna be okay?” Sans asks, standing up.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you tell him, and it’s almost true.

As he turns to go, you act on instinct – you reach out to grab his hand. It’s fucked up, but you can’t deny the rush of warmth you feel at the contact of his bones on your skin, and you cling to the comforting feeling, lacing your fingers with his. God, what’s wrong with you?

He looks down at your joined hands, and then back up at you, a silent question in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and your throat feels dry, the words clumsy in your mouth. “For, um, coming to check on me.”

Sans relaxes, squeezing your hand before letting go. “heh, it’s the least i can do,” he says, and when he winks at you, it doesn’t grate on your nerves as much as it usually does. In fact, it’s actually nice, and you give him a small smile.

As you watch him go back up the stairs to his room, something soft and unfamiliar stirs in your Soul.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, two chapters in two days? i'm spoiling you guys. ;)
> 
> hope you enjoyed it!


	8. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go downhill very, very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys might notice that for the chapter marking, it says "8/100". yeah there's no way this fic is gonna be 100 chapters lol. it's only because ao3 wouldn't let me post until i _"chose a valid number"_ for the chapter numbers??? idk so i just picked 100
> 
> i actually??? kind of hate this chapter??? but it's longer than a lot of the ones i've been posting so that's good?????????
> 
> anyway please enjoy

The moment you open your eyes, you can already tell it’s going to be a shit day.

When you sit up, your throat constricts briefly, making it difficult to breathe. You get a feeling similar to last night, where your head aches and your hands shake and seek something to choke the life out of just so you can feel like you have some semblance of control over something. You’re trembling and jumpy, and there’s no remedy for it. You grimace, flexing your fingers and trying to will the feeling away, but it doesn’t go.

You think it’s still early. At the very least, Papyrus and Sans aren’t awake yet, and while you aren’t very surprised about Sans, you figured Papyrus to be one of those people who’s always up at the crack of dawn.

Maybe you should make them breakfast or something. After all, they let you crash on their couch, and it’s the least you can do. Plus, you really don’t want to taste Papyrus’s spaghetti again anytime soon, if you can help it.

It’ll help take your mind off things, if nothing else.

You stand up, but you have to grip the arm of the couch a moment later as your legs wobble and threaten to buckle underneath you. God, you’re exhausted. Between the nightmare you’d had and the general discomfort that comes with sleeping in an unfamiliar place, you barely slept last night, and for a second you’re tempted to just lay down again and go back to sleep.

 _No,_ you tell yourself. You have to do something, _anything,_ if only to get these awful thoughts out of your head.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you realize you actually have no idea what you’re doing. Maybe this plan wasn’t very well thought out.

So you spend about three minutes poking around in various cupboards and drawers, trying to get some idea of where to begin the process of making breakfast, but it’s fairly unsuccessful. All you manage to find is a pile of bones under the sink, plenty of spaghetti in the fridge, and –

Your hand stills on the edge of the drawer you’ve just opened. Inside are several knives of various sizes, and there’s nobody around, _just take one_ , and you’re just. Standing there.

Almost before you realize it, your fingers are curling around the handle of the largest knife, and you’re shoving it into your pocket (albeit carefully). The familiar weight of the knife soothes that burning itch in the deepest part of you, and you sigh audibly in relief.

“hey, kid.”

You whirl around, fingers slipping on the handle of your concealed weapon and preventing you from pulling it out. Which is good, because it’s just Sans, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He’s dressed almost exactly the same as yesterday, except his T-shirt is grey instead of white, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s slightly darker blue looks thicker, but the hood isn’t lined with fur. He’s… cute, and the realization fucks you up a little bit.

As usual, his presence both relaxes you and makes you feel even more on edge. “You’re up early,” you say, your voice a bit strained.

“i wanted to check on you. see if you’re doing ok after last night.” Is it your imagination, or is he blushing? “you wanna talk about it yet?”

“ _No_ ,” you blurt, gripping the hilt of the knife in your pocket.

Sans looks startled for a moment, but his expression quickly smooths out. “all right, kiddo, i won’t push it,” he says casually. “what are _you_ doing up this early, anyway?”

Your mouth feels dry, and the blade is heavy in your hand. “I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you tell him. “I wanted to try making breakfast for you and Papyrus, but I couldn’t find any food other than spaghetti.”

“really?” Sans blinks, looking both surprised and pleased. “well, there’s no way you’re gonna find any good food here. if you want, we can head to the shop and get some cinnabuns.”

“You can literally teleport,” you remind him.

“good point,” he grins. “be right back.”

He’s gone in a blink with a breeze that barely ruffles your hair, and the Sans-induced tightness in your chest eases, although the rest of it is still there. Faint traces of his magic crackle in the air, smelling like dust and bones and books and something else that makes your skin prickle. It’s _powerful_ , and you can only be grateful that he didn’t take you with him this time.

Sans is an enigma, you think. He’s infuriating, and you can’t stand him half the time, but when he’s around he makes you feel… safe? Less unsteady, anyway. You can’t deny that physical contact with him feels really nice, and it helps to ground you. His jokes are actually pretty funny. And the way he made sure you were okay last night…

“here.” The skeleton’s sudden reappearance makes you jump. He tosses one of the cinnamon bunnies at you, and you catch it against your chest rather awkwardly, eyeing the bag he’s holding.

“How many did you buy?” you ask.

“enough to last for a couple days,” he chuckles, taking one out for himself and eating it in one bite. You watch, fascinated, as you nibble on your own cinnabun. God, where does his food go if he doesn’t have a stomach? You’ve never thought about it before, but it’s just another thing to add to the list of mysterious things about Sans.

Maybe not, though, because he seems to have caught you staring. A grin nudges the corner of his mouth, and he closes one eye in a wink. “what’s _eating_ you, kid?” he quips.

You almost laugh. Almost. But a ghost of a memory of the last time he spoke those words rises like bile in your throat and chokes you, and you just glance away. “I was just wondering where your food goes,” you mutter.

“oh. heh. monster food’s magic. it doesn’t have to digest like human food does,” he says with a shrug. If he notices your hesitance, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Oh.” You watch him, still tense, as he turns to put the bag away in the fridge. The sensation of his hand in yours is haunting you, and you have a compelling urge to reach out and grip his fingers. His bones were smooth and warm and, and what the hell are you thinking about, this is _Sans_ , what the fuck, why are you thinking about him like this –

Sans turns back to you. “hey, i want you to sit at my sentry station with me today,” he says suddenly.

“What?” You’re so caught off-guard by his request that you momentarily forget about your intrusive thoughts. “Why?”

“i wanna keep an eye on you,” he says, and his tone is friendly but the words are decidedly not. “i figure you shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.”

You purse your lips, and maybe you shouldn’t be offended, considering that you have a goddamn knife in your pocket right now, but it stings you a little bit. “Okay,” you say, just a little caustically. “Would you happen to have a jacket or something I can wear, so I don’t freeze to death?”

“sure, kid,” he says, smirking as his eye begins to glow blue, and the sight still makes you anxious. “you can wear my hoodie like yesterday.” He lifts a hand out of his pocket, and his lighter blue jacket materializes a few feet above it, bringing with it that same feeling of magic that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The jacket drops into his hand, and he holds it out to you.

You shudder slightly at the residual magic in the air, reaching out to take the jacket. “Thank you,” you say quietly, scooping it up in both your hands. As you do so, your fingertips graze the back of his hand, and a warm spark shoots through you. You almost drop the jacket in your surprise.

“What was that?” you ask.

Sans’s cheeks are oddly blue once more. “just some leftover magic, maybe,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “c’mon, kiddo, put that on and let’s go.”

You pull the coat on carefully, zipping it up to your throat as a precaution. It’s just as comfortable as you remember, and that smell of magic that is just so very _Sans_ is starting to grow on you.

Speaking of Sans, the skeleton in question is giving you the weirdest look. You can’t identify the emotion behind it, but it makes you feel both hot and cold and very, very small. You clear your throat self-consciously, shuffling your feet. “Are you ready?”

“wha…?” He blinks, and his cheeks turn even bluer. “uh, yeah, let’s go,” he says gruffly, turning away and walking quickly to the door (well, quickly for Sans, anyway).

He’s acting very strange today, you think, frowning as you follow him out the door. Does he know about the knife you took? But if he does, why hasn’t he said anything?

Silence weighs on you, making you hunch your shoulders as you walk beside Sans. He’s not blushing anymore, but he doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as you are. Still, the silence goes on until the two of you are well out of town.

You pick at a bit of fluff inside the pocket, searching your mind for a conversation topic. “So,” you say.

“so?”

“Um…” You bite your lip, then blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind. “You said you have nightmares, right? What are they about?”

Oh, fucking hell. You and your stupid mouth.

Sans halts, his eyes darkening. “that’s pretty forward of you to ask,” he says lowly.

Your cheeks flush. “I –”

“forget it, pal,” says Sans with an air of fake casualness, waving a hand. “but here’s a question for ya. don’t you think that you should respect my privacy, just like i respect yours?”

“Of course,” you say hurriedly. “Of course, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Sans glances at you sideways, his expression softening a little, but before he has a chance to reply, several things happen at once.

It all goes by too quickly for you to process. One moment, a smallish monster you vaguely recognize as Ice Cap is bursting out of the trees to your right, barreling onto the path and slamming straight into you. The next, they’re gone and there’s that smell of magic in the air again, and Sans is gripping your wrist, which is up in front of you, for some reason. His eye is blazing, and he looks… angry. Terrified.

“_____,” he says, and his voice is a dangerous rumble. “where did you get that?”

Bewildered and a little dazed, you look from Sans’s face to where his phalanges are digging into your skin. The knife that’s supposed to be in your pocket, the knife you don’t even remember pulling out is in your hand, cold and gleaming and reflecting the snow-covered ground.

You feel like somebody’s just dumped a bucket of cold water over you. Your hand starts to tremble, and without thinking you drop the knife, watching it fall end over end from your hand before landing with a _thud_ on the ground.

Sans releases you and steps directly in front of you, kicking the knife back and out of your reach. You’re still shaking, but he doesn’t seem to care as he stares you down. “answer me, kid,” he snaps.

“I… I don’t…” you stammer. You can’t – you didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t even _remember_ pulling out the knife – it was supposed to stay in your pocket, but you –

You begin to reach for the knife again, because maybe if you have it you’ll be able to think straight, but Sans’s fingers curl around your wrist again, so tightly you’re worried it’ll bruise.

“don’t move an inch,” he says, his eye casting blue light over your face as he grins threateningly and leans in closer. “now answer my question, or you’re gonna have a _real_ bad time.

“ **Where’d you get the knife?** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the positive feedback, it's cheesy but you all give me determination :'] honestly your reviews give me the strength to keep writing when i could've given up a long time ago, or heck, never even posted this story at all. thank you guys. i love you.


	9. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continue | Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for angst. Lots of fucking angst.

Terror paralyzes you. Adrenaline is racing through your blood, but you’re caught between fight and flight, leaving you just standing there, unable to speak or even try to pull your arm out of Sans’s grip.

“no answer, huh?” Sans studies you, leaning back slightly, although his face is still only inches from yours (which, in a different situation, might make you feel something). “i’m gonna guess, then, that you took it when you were sneaking around the kitchen this morning. so here’s a better question: what were you planning to do with it?”

“Nothing,” you say, breathy and quick. “Nothing, I promise, you have to believe me, I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Sans frowns, releasing your wrist. “you’re not lying, are you?”

It’s really a question, he’s really asking you that. You wrap your arms around yourself and pretend like you’re trying not to laugh hysterically. “Of course not,” you say.

When it’s clear you’re not going to continue, Sans huffs, turning and taking a few steps away from you. As he does, you think you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you don’t catch what it is.

You don’t even realize you’re on your knees until the snow begins to melt through your jeans, cold dampness seeping through the denim and onto your skin. You’re still buzzing with the adrenaline, and even though you know it’s freezing, all it registers as is a mild chill.

“Psst!”

_ What the fuck was that?  _ Your head whips up, but you can’t seem to find the source of the noise. Was it even real…?

“_____!” the voice hisses again. “Down here!”

You tilt your chin down, and oh. Flowey is right in front of you, somehow, looking nervous and more than a little put out. “Howdy, pal,” he says, baring a sardonic grin at you.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whisper furiously, glaring at the little flower. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he says irritably, glancing back at Sans. “But I had to warn you. Didn’t you hear what he said?”

Your brow furrows. “No…”

Flowey sneers at you, petals twitching in annoyance. “He said, ‘they deserve to be punished’,” he tells you, his face and voice shifting to imitate Sans before switching back to normal. “C’mon, are you really just going to sit here like an idiot until he kills you? Golly, I thought you were smarter than that!”

Fear grips your chest with icy fingers. “He wouldn’t,” you mutter.

“You really  _ are  _ an idiot if you think that,” Flowey snaps. “Look, I’m just telling you what I heard. If you attack him first, you can probably get a hit in. That’s all you need. That smiley trashbag has been far too much trouble for both of us, don’t you agree?”

Fuck. Your hands – no, your whole body is shaking. “I can’t do it,” you say.

Flowey rolls his eyes. A vine springs from the ground and wraps around the hilt of the knife that still sits between you and Sans, dragging it over to you and placing it before your knees. “Take the knife and attack him,” the golden flower presses. “It’s that simple.”

Your fingers curl loosely around the handle, more out of habit than anything. Your mind is still foggy; you barely register Flowey’s whisper of, “Just one hit is all it takes,” barely notice him disappear into the earth once more. All your concentration seems to be fixed on the knife in your hand.

One hit, right? Just one hit, and he’ll be weak enough to not want to fight anymore.

So you get up, gripping the knife tighter, fingers twitching. It’s calming, once you’ve decided. As though you’ve always known you were going to have to fight him again.

“Sans,” you say.

He turns, and his eyes darken when he sees the knife in your hand once more. “_____,” he says, guarded. “put that down.”

You aren’t scared anymore. “I just have to hit you once,” you say softly, as if reassuring him.

Sans stiffens. “what did you just say?”

You hold up the knife. “You said I deserve to be punished,” you say. “You’re right.”

“kid,” he says, and now he looks incredulous. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was trying not to laugh as he takes a few steps closer. “that’s not what i meant.”

Scowling, you say, “I know exactly what you meant, Sans.”

A bone shoots out of the ground, blocking your blade and halting its downward swing. Sans stares at you, left hand lifted and glowing faintly.

“you don’t know what you’re doing,” he says after a moment, stepping back. “but if you wanna play games, well. i can’t say that i haven’t been kinda wanting to play this one.”

The words have hardly left his mouth before a torrent of bones is flying straight at you, and you duck and twist aside just in time to avoid being impaled.

You feel clumsy with this knife in your hand – it’s too small and not sharp enough, and it’s not nearly as well-balanced as your real knife was. You don’t know how adequately you can fight with this one.

But then, you only need to hit him once.

You’re strangely numb – maybe it’s the after-effects of adrenaline – as you swing your blade at Sans again. He dodges in the same way he always does, but this time, you note that it’s a little slower, and he looks pained.

“kiddo, please don’t do this,” he says, so quietly you can barely hear him.

“I’m not a kid,” you respond flatly. Kids don’t play with knives.

_ Don’t they? _

He’s holding back. You can tell by the way he always gives you a moment to recover after a turn, by the attacks he uses that are far more subdued than what you know he can do. Hell, he hasn’t slammed you onto the ground even once.

Sans just doesn’t want to fight you, and maybe that’s why, in one of your turns, you don’t miss.

It happens before you even realize it. You attack again, but this time, Sans doesn’t step aside fast enough, and your blade catches him directly across the chest.

His body jerks with the force of the impact, and when he looks up at you with wide, betrayed eyes, fragments of your dream come back in flashes, so vivid you can taste the blood in your mouth. You swallow reflexively, holding his gaze.

“well,” Sans rasps, and you realize suddenly that he’s gone even paler than you thought possible, that he’s starting to collapse. You cast aside your knife without thinking and reach out for him, gripping his elbows, supporting him and sinking to your knees with him.

“Sans?” you say, and your voice sounds faint, like it’s coming from far away.

“hey, you said it, kid,” he chuckles weakly. “‘just one hit’, right?”

_ Fuck. _

“No,” you whimper. “No,  _ Sans _ , I didn’t know –”

He exhales, slumping a little, as though your hands are the only thing keeping him upright. “well, i thought it was  _ knife  _ knowing you. but i guess this is  _ pun _ ishment enough,” he mumbles.

It takes a moment for the implication of what he’s saying to click, and when it does, it hits you harder than any attack of his ever has, and you want to scream.

“Sans, oh my  _ god _ –”

He grins agonizingly, eyelids fluttering, and all you can do is watch in disbelief as his body crumbles and dissolves into dust in your hands.

Horror chokes you, a black thing writhing in your gut and crawling up your throat until you feel sick. Tears are streaking down your face and your hands are shaking, scattering dust onto your knees and the blue coat that you’re  _ still wearing _ . Fuck, you’re wearing the jacket of the monster you just killed and now his dust is getting on it.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “Oh, god, fuck,  _ fuck _ , Sans, I’m so sorry, fuck –”

You hunch over, clenching your hands into fists, feeling the dust get under your fingernails and into the lines of you palms. You can’t breathe, can’t think, and vaguely you wonder if this is what a panic attack feels like.

“You must feel  _ sooo _ guilty right now,” a voice in front of you chirps mockingly. “I wonder what Papyrus is going to say when he finds out that his new friend killed his beloved brother!”

God, he really knows how to hit you where it hurts, doesn’t he? You lift your head to see Flowey grinning savagely at you. “You fucking did this,” you sob.

“ _ Me _ ? Golly, what a thing to say!” He feigns innocence. “This is all  _ your  _ fault.  _ You  _ killed him. I didn’t do  _ anything at all _ … except for SAVE over his death, that is.”

Your stomach drops. “What,” you say.

“That’s right!” Flowey giggles, giving you a fanged smile. “I SAVED as soon as your little skeleton buddy there turned into dust. Now you’ll  _ never  _ get him back!”

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ –

“Unless,” he adds, and your hands shoots out, grabbing his stem.

“Unless. What,” you say, leaning down closer to the flower’s face.

Flowey squirms. “Let  _ go  _ of me and I’ll tell you.”

You tighten your grip on his stem, sneering at him, and he yelps. “Okay, okay! Gosh! If you want to get him back, all you have to do is reset, pal.”

_ Reset. _

The word fills you with dread, but he’s right, of course. The only way to bring Sans back to life is resetting the timeline once again. It brought back everyone you’d killed before, right? Surely there’s nothing wrong with resetting because you accidentally killed your friend, right?

The last time you reset, you’d decided to be a better person. You can’t just let this monumental of a mistake go.

Resetting sounds like a very good option to your grief-clouded brain.

“So?” Flowey prompts you. “Are you going to do it?”

You finally let go of his stem, sitting back on your heels and wiping the tears off your face with the back of your hand. “Yeah,” you say and purse your lips. “But I’m going to need your help.”

He squints at you suspiciously. “With what?”

Shit, this was a bad idea. “I… have to die in order to reset,” you say with no small degree of trepidation. “Can you…”

There’s a short pause before Flowey barks out a laugh. “Are you  _ asking  _ me to kill you, _____?”

Your silence serves as good an answer as any.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says smugly, “I guess I’m obliged to help you.”

You shut your eyes as a vine sprouts from the ground, bracing yourself for the impact. “Just get it over with quickly,” you mutter.

It doesn’t even occur to you to ask why he would make you kill Sans, and then SAVE over his death, if he was just going to make you reset and undo it, or whether or not he even still  _ has _ that power, because something strikes you in the head, and then…

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT MAN THIS WASNT REALLY SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN YET BUT IDK IT WORKED
> 
> please tell me what you guys think because this plot twist made me _super_ nervous


	10. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RESET.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* i'm sorry this chapter took so long.....

The moment you wake up in the ruins, you’re on your feet. Your heart is pounding, thudding in your ears and pulsing in your throat. Without even pausing to catch your breath, you head down the hallway to the next room. This may only be your second reset and your third time waking up among the golden flowers, but you remember it well enough to know that what comes next could cost you a lot of time if you don’t get out of here quickly.

When you pass through the doorway, you notice that Flowey is mysteriously absent from his usual spot. Fortunate for him, you reflect dryly, because if he were here, you’d grind him into dust, consequences be damned.

The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor ahead reaches your ear, and for a moment you freeze. _Shit,_ you think, glancing around wildly. The corners of the room are darker than the center, and you dart over to the wall, pressing yourself against it and tugging your hood up over your head in an attempt to hide yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Toriel passing, and despite the precarious position you’re in, you feel a slight pang of guilt. You almost wish that you didn’t have to avoid her, that you could stay here with the gentle goat monster and relax before moving on, but you have to get back to Snowdin. You have to make sure that Sans is still alive.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper once she’s disappeared through the doorway.

You slip out of the room the way Toriel came, and when you’re out, you run.

It’s surprisingly easily getting through the puzzles again. None of them give you too much trouble (with the exception of perhaps the “don’t step on the leaves” puzzle), and between them you sprint through the violet passages and avoid anything that could possibly slow you down, including monsters that you remember from before, like Froggits, Loox, and Napstablook.

As you run, barely stopping to SAVE whenever needed, only one thought echoes through your mind.

_You’re so fucking stupid._

From the perspective of a completely different timeline, it’s very clear to you that you’ve been manipulated. Flowey _wanted_ you to reset, and he had no qualms about doing whatever he wanted in order to achieve it. You’re completely clueless as to why, but you know that if he didn’t, he never would’ve encouraged you to do it. Not unless it would’ve benefitted him in some way.

“Selfish motherfucker,” you mutter aloud.

God, you are so _stupid_. You can’t believe you actually trusted Flowey, the one who’d gotten you into this whole mess in the first place. He’s the one who caused your first timeline to go so horribly wrong, and he’s the one who influenced your decision to kill Sans in your second. Just the thought makes bile rise in your throat.

If you ever see him again, he’ll be dead where he stands.

Before too long you reach Toriel’s house, and you’re panting, so you pause to rest against the door and catch your breath. You refuse to let yourself stop for too long, though. _Not yet. Not until you find Sans._

Toriel leaves her door unlocked, and discovering this makes you almost cry in relief. You turn the knob and open it without any trouble, and you’re running again, heading straight for the stairs that lead to the basement. You almost trip in your haste to get down them (which could’ve been _extremely_ bad, resulting in injury or even death, making you have to LOAD again), but you make it down without incident.

When you reach the final door out of the Ruins, again passing a room where Flowey should’ve been but isn’t, it’s just as goddamn heavy as you remember. Adrenaline makes it easier to push open, though, and you barely feel the muscle strain as you shove past it and step out into Snowdin Forest.

You exhale into the air, closing your eyes briefly and enjoying the feeling of the chill on your sweat-damp skin. You have to force yourself to slow to a walk, knowing that you’re being watched now. But as you hop over the thick branch in the path, as you hear it crack behind you after a few steps, as you reach the poorly constructed bridge, your heart is beating so hard you think it’s going to explode out of your chest.

“ **H u m a n.** ”

You freeze. _Fuck_ , you’re not ready for this, you’re not –

“ **D o n ’ t  y o u  k n o w  h o w  t o  g r e e t  a  n e w  p a l ?** ”

Oh, God. You can’t move.

“ **T u r n  a r o u n d  a n d –** ”

You whirl around so fast that your feet nearly slip on the icy ground,ignoring the outstretched hand and flinging your arms around the short skeleton in front of you. Blood rushes in your ears as your fingers clutch at the thick fabric of his coat, burying your face in his shoulder. The hug is desperate and clingy and, at the moment, pretty one-sided.

But you don’t fucking care.

“… shake my hand,” Sans finishes in his normal voice, tone softening. He places his hand hesitantly on your lower back, his fingers warm through your hoodie. “or you could do that, too.”

Your whole body is shaking, and you think you’re crying. “Fuck,” you choke out, holding him tighter. “ _Fuck._ ”

“hey. hey, kid, it’s ok,” he says soothingly, and his voice rumbles in his chest as he rubs your back gently, his other hand coming up to rest on your waist. “deep breaths. you’re gonna be alright.”

You follow his instructions, inhaling deeply and then forcing the air out, trying to focus on specific things to keep yourself grounded. The soft fabric of his jacket between your fingers, the fur lining of his hood brushing your cheek, and the comforting warmth of his hand rubbing circles on your back all help to calm you, and after a few minutes your breathing has slowed some, enough that you can pull back from the hug and not feel like you’re going to start screaming.

When you start to pull away, Sans’s hands fall from your sides. You can’t look at him as you take a small step back, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Sorry,” you mumble, staring at your feet.

Sans gives you a look, but it’s not one of disdain or even pity like you imagined. Instead, his eyes are full of genuine concern as he says, “don’t worry about it, pal. but, uh, s’not every day that i get hugged by random humans comin’ out of the ruins, so is it ok if i ask you a couple questions?”

You stiffen, but nod anyway. It can’t hurt, right?

“ok. great.” His tone remains gentle as he puts his hands in his pockets, giving you a once-over. “first of all, what’s your name?”

“_____,” you tell him. This one is easy to answer. Despite everything, it’s still you.

“_____. okay. i’m sans, but i’m gonna take a guess and say you already knew that,” he says, glancing at you for confirmation. When you nod, he mirrors the action and continues. “i’m also gonna guess that, by extension, this isn’t your first time meeting me.”

You shake your head this time, and he’s watching you a little more closely now. “how many times have you reset, kid?”

“Two,” you tell him quietly. “This timeline is my third.”

Sans’s browbone furrows. “did something happen in the last one? something… bad?”

Your hands start to shake again, but you want to answer. You have to answer. He deserves to know what happened to him, what you did.

“You… you died,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I…”

But you can’t muster the courage to go on. You fall silent, and when you look up at Sans again, your vision is blurry with tears.

His eye sockets have gone dark with shock, the corners of his ever-present grin drawn down. The expression only brings back images of his dust on your palms, and you bite your lip hard, waiting.

“oh,” he says finally, and the lights return to his eyes. “well, that’s, uh… that’s certainly somethin’ bad, isn’t it, kiddo? no _bones_ about it.”

Your laugh is more hysterical than actual amusement at the pun, but you appreciate that he’s trying to make light of the situation to comfort you. “Yeah. Yeah, it was… pretty bad,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

“hey,” he says, and you look up at him, frowning. He looks a little awkward, a light blue flush on his cheeks, but he goes on. “i’m ok, ya know? i’m – i’m here. alive. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your own face is getting a little warm. “Yeah,” you say, looking away. “Um, thanks.”

God, you hate how easily he affects you. Seeing him alive and smiling at you even after what you did makes you feel… you don’t even know what. You’re happy, and relieved, but at the same time, a deep sense of guilt is twisting your stomach into knots. This strange power that Sans has over you – a power he doesn’t even seem to be aware of possessing – seems to have become even stronger since the last time, and it’s infuriating that you don’t know what it is.

“SANS?”

Papyrus’s voice startles you, especially when you remember all of a sudden that he doesn’t know you in this timeline. You turn to see him towering over you, hands on his hips and a bewildered expression on his face.

“I CAME TO CHECK WHETHER YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR STATION OR NOT,” he continues. “BUT INSTEAD, I FOUND YOU OVER HERE, SLACKING OFF AND TALKING TO SOMEONE!”

Sans’s eyes are wide with something akin to panic. “uh, papyrus –” he starts.

“WHO IS YOUR FRIEND, THEN, SANS?” Papyrus turns his attention to you, and his eyes narrow a bit. “WAIT A MOMENT. ARE YOU… A HUMAN?!”

Oh, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna take a moment to promote my other ut fics!!
> 
> [my heart is my armor (she's the tear in my heart)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6593767/chapters/15084253) is a shorter, but still multi-part undyne/reader fic with a named reader written as a gift for my friend. it's still in progress and its priority level is about equal with this one.
> 
> [spring rain](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6423262) is a fluffy sans/reader one-shot i wrote a little while ago.
> 
> go check em out! :)


	11. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A window into Sans's thoughts.

Sans watches as your face goes pale with shock, your mouth falling open a little at the sight of his brother towering over you. Without even really thinking, he steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder and drawing your frightened gaze to him.

“relax, kiddo. i got this,” he mutters through a grin with much more confidence than he feels, closing one eye in a wink.

Your brow furrows, but you move back, allowing his hand to slip off your shoulder and fall back to his side. He smiles at you and turns to Papyrus, who is still standing there with a slightly bemused look on his face.

“SANS?” he prompts. “IS THIS FRIEND OF YOURS A HUMAN?”

“c’mon, bro,” is all Sans says in response, shoving his hand into his pocket. “let’s take a walk, ok?”

Papyrus frowns at him. “BUT SANS, WHAT ABOUT –”

“don’t worry about them. they’re not goin’ anywhere,” Sans assures him, strolling forward and ducking between the wide bars of his brother’s rather inefficient gate. He doesn’t even bother glancing back at you. Somehow, he knows that you’re not going to run off while he’s talking to the taller skeleton.

Said skeleton is now following him, protesting, “WAIT, SANS! YOU CAN’T JUST WALK AWAY LIKE THAT!”

Sans stops by the oddly-shaped lamp near his sentry station and turns to face Papyrus, gaze darting briefly over to where you still stand, looking a bit lost and watching the two of them. You make eye contact for a split second, but the moment your eyes meet, he looks away. It’s easier right now if he doesn’t… think too much about what just transpired between the two of you.

“i just wanted to talk to you where we’d be out of earshot of the human,” he says, dropping his voice a bit lower to demonstrate as he looks up at Papyrus. “like this, see?”

“Oh, yes! I see!” To Papyrus’s credit, he actually can speak considerably softer when the need arises. Then his eye sockets narrow, and his voice escalates, “WAIT A SECOND! SO THEY _ARE_ A HUMAN???”

“shhhh.” Sans lifts a finger to his teeth. “quiet, remember, paps?” When Papyrus nods earnestly, looking stricken, he continues, “yeah, they’re human. they just popped out of the ruins, but, uh… think you oughta lay off the whole capturing thing with them. at least for now, anyway. i know how badly you want to capture a human, but…”

He trails off, wincing a little. He doesn’t really want to tell Papyrus about your reaction to seeing him – after all, he doesn’t entirely understand it himself – but maybe he can condense it a little?

“But what, Sans?” Papyrus tilts his head.

Sans sighs. “i think they aren’t really having the best day,” he says. “the kid seems pretty, um. distressed. i don’t really know what’s goin’ on, but maybe you should just… make them some of your spaghetti instead.”

Papyrus’s expression brightens. “Indeed!” he exclaims, still in a whisper-yell. “Sans, that is a wonderful idea!” Then he sobers a little, putting a hand to his chin contemplatively. “I wonder, though, if they would like to try my puzzles? It might cheer them up while they are waiting for my legendary spaghetti!”

“why don’t you go ask them?” he suggests.

“PERHAPS I WILL!” Papyrus is back to normal volume as he bounces over to you. Upon seeing him approach, you startle a little, the color draining from your cheeks again.

Papyrus puffs out his chest, scarf rippling heroically. “HUMAN!” he states. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT YOU ARE NOT IN A PROPER STATE TO BATTLE ME AT THIS TIME. THEREFORE, I HAVE DECIDED TO SHOW YOU MERCY!”

A faint smile ghosts over your lips, and Sans identifies the expression in your eyes as nostalgia. Huh. That’s new. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, you did seem very… attached to him. You must’ve been close in the last timeline.

He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Thank you,” you’re saying to Papyrus, scuffing your foot on the ground awkwardly. “Um, that’s… thank you.”

If Papyrus notices your discomfort, he doesn’t show it. “HOWEVER, I DO HAVE ONE QUESTION FOR YOU,” he says. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO ATTEMPT SOME OF MY PUZZLES? I AM GOING BACK TO MY HOUSE TO PREPARE YOU SOME OF MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI, BUT IN THE MEANTIME, PERHAPS MY BROTHER COULD HELP YOU!”

You blink in surprise, glancing at Sans for a moment. He winks at you again, grinning, and that’s apparently all the encouragement you need. “Um, sure, I’d love to try them,” you say.

“NYEH! OF COURSE YOU WOULD!” Papyrus beams. “WELL THEN, MY SPAGHETTI AND I WILL BE WAITING FOR THE TWO OF YOU AT HOME!”

And he’s off, charging through the snowy forest at full speed to get back to Snowdin Town. Sans chuckles affectionately as he watches him go, rubbing the back of his skull.

“paps sure does have a lot of energy in him, doesn’t he?” Sans comments, turning to you. “c’mon, kiddo, let’s get moving.”

“I can’t believe you told him to make me spaghetti,” you say, sounding a little exasperated but mostly amused.

“heh, don’t be too upset with me,” he tells you, smirking. “no one’s _pasta_ way from his cooking yet, so i think you’ll be fine.”

You snort, a tiny sound which he privately finds adorable. “I guess you’re right,” you say. “Still, he’s pretty far from being a _bone_ -a-fide chef.”

“that may be true, but, y’know, papyrus still works himself down to the _bone_ ,” Sans says, narrowing his eyes slightly. “no matter what he’s doing.”

Your cheeks flush bright red. “Shit, I didn’t mean to insult him,” you say. “I’m sorry, I was just –”

He laughs. “nah, i was just messing with you, kiddo. you didn’t offend me,” he assures you. “relax. you’re turning as red as papyrus’s spaghetti sauce.”

You scowl at him, huffing in irritation. “Let’s just go,” you mutter, still blushing as you start off down the path and cross the bridge.

Sans follows, grinning broadly. It’s strangely easy for him to get used to you, and something about you makes him like you already, even though you’ve barely met.

The puzzles aren’t terribly difficult, so he mostly just sits back and lets you solve them on your own, offering pointers only when necessary. He watches you when you aren’t looking, secretly admiring the determined set of your jaw, the way you look when you’re particularly focused on solving something. He doesn’t know why, but at the same time that he likes your independence, he also wants to help you, to protect you and keep you safe.

_shit,_ he thinks tiredly, dragging a hand down his face. Since when does he get attached to people this easily?

He doesn’t. He’s never felt this way. So why now? Why…

Why _you?_

Sans sighs, plastering a smile on when he feels your eyes on him. “you’re doing great, kiddo,” he calls out. You’ve just finished one of the more difficult puzzles, the one involving X’s that Papyrus rearranged to look like his face in a spell of boredom one day. “i didn’t even have to help ya on that one.”

Your mouth twists in a way that shows you’re trying not to smile, which is endearing. He just grins, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets and trying to ignore how cute he finds you. It doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

The next puzzle is deactivated, so you walk easily across without incident. After that, you come to what is possibly the most ‘dangerous’ one, because it involves sliding on ice in a complicated pattern to turn more X’s into O’s. Sans watches you stand in front of it, eyeing it critically, and tries to make a decision.

“hey, kiddo,” he says, coming up beside you. “let me help you with this one, ok?”

“What? Why?” You turn to him, pursing your lips.

Sans isn’t about to admit that he just doesn’t want you to get hurt, so he shrugs and holds out his hand. “c’mon, don’t you trust me?”

Something flashes behind your eyes, so quickly that he might have thought he imagined it if he didn’t know better. You bite your lip, gaze leaving his face for a moment. “… Yeah,” you answer eventually, reaching out tentatively and taking his hand.

The contact sends a jolt through him. Your fingers are cold, but not icy, and very soft. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles without thinking, fascinated. “huh,” he breathes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that your cheeks are bright red. “Um. Sans?”

He snaps out of it, and he can feel his own face starting to flush blue. _oh, fuck,_ he thinks. He can’t even bring himself to crack a joke about it, he’s so flustered. So he does the next best thing; he pretends it didn’t happen, leading you over to the edge of the ice. “okay, just follow my lead, kid.”

Your face is still red, but you comply. Sans takes your other hand in his to keep you steady and guides you across the ice in the correct pattern, helping you step on each X so it turns into an O. His slippers are surprisingly good for the pseudo-skating the two of you are doing, but you’re having less luck, and he’s glad he’d decided to help you.

Once, your feet nearly fly out from under you, and he grips your hands tighter, pulling you closer out of instinct. Your feet slip on the ice, and you collide with him, chest to chest, hands caught between you, faces only inches apart.

“S-sorry,” you stammer.

Sans doesn’t let himself get caught in the moment again. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice, although he’s quite frankly enjoying himself a lot. “it’s alright, kid,” he says, helping you right yourself. “there ya go. that’s it.”

When you finish the puzzle and make it across the bridge, he might hold your hands for just a little bit longer than he should. But it’s not like it means anything, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're actually getting close to the end of the story, i think maybe only 4-5 chapters after this one !!! by the next update i'll know for sure (: for now i have tentatively changed the chapter count to 15
> 
> it's gonna be a wild ride friends


	12. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an author's note, not a real chapter.

hey guys. 

this is just a quick update, posted from my phone, to let you guys know what's going on. 

i **DO** plan on finishing this story! the outline is done and i know where i'm going with the end. 

but right now, i'm finishing up school, and life is really stressful. i also haven't been doing too well mental-health-wise, and that makes it hard to write and keep up with updates sometimes. 

by june i should be posting regular updates again, but for right now, this story is going on a _short_ hiatus. 

thank you all for being patient. i love you guys.


	13. (ANOTHER) AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

if anyone is interested, i am still finishing this story. and i made a tumblr for it [here](karmicretributionfanfic.tumblr.com)

i don't really have much else to say except that im so sorry. life has been kicking my ass

but i have posted another undertale fic recently which you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9055102)

thx to anyone who has stuck with me

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr!
> 
> [beatwithoutmelody.tumblr.com](http://beatwithoutmelody.tumblr.com) OR [karmicretributionfanfic.tumblr.com](http://karmicretributionfanfic.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Sansational Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567922) by [a_sansational_night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sansational_night/pseuds/a_sansational_night)




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